Let the Rain Fall Down
by Stratocruiser
Summary: A terrible secret is revealed while Margaret and Hawkeye try to patch things up. FINAL CHAPTER UP.
1. Chapter 1

**Let the Rain Fall Down**

His glass was half-empty. The moon was full.

Hawkeye Pierce actually saw two moons with his liquor-clogged eyes. He walked around the quiet camp, stumbling on the hem of his purple bathrobe. Underneath all he had on were boxers and a t-shirt.

A soft light flickered from Margaret's tent. He started toward it, thinking of her golden hair and soft green eyes and the perfume she wore. How her scent carried through the air on a hot, steamy night and made his stomach cartwheel.

But standing became too much of a chore for Hawkeye. The ground loomed closer and colder until his ass made hard contact. Crossing his legs, Hawkeye pretended to be an Indian sitting around a campfire, praising the gods of nature.

Through the door of her tent, Margaret watched his inebriated ballet and turned back to her sewing. The moon dipped behind a cloud. Fifteen minutes later she peered out again into a light rain. Hawkeye was now lying on his back, legs still crossed. Thirty minutes after that, she peeked out to find him face down, still grasping that martini glass. The rain had grown heavier now. Margaret rolled her eyes and threw a jacket over her pajamas.

He didn't move when she said his name. Turning him over didn't disturb his slumber. So, muttering curses under her breath, she grabbed an arm and dragged him the twenty or so feet to her tent. His boxers slid halfway down twice. Each time she stopped to pull them up, cursing the whole way.

When she finally burst through the door, it took all her strength to shove Hawkeye into a chair. He was muddy from top to toe, moaning and swaying back and forth.

"I don't know why you do this to yourself," she said. She'd bloodied his lip somewhere along the line.

Margaret went about cleaning him up. In one of her lockers, she found one of Donald's old t-shirts and a pair of Frank's boxers someone had once run up the flagpole. Hawkeye didn't move while she took off his dirty shirt and wiped him off quickly, like she was at gunpoint.

"Hey!" she said loudly, poking his arm. "You're going to have to change your own pants."

Mechanically, Hawkeye stood up and dropped his boxers. Her gaze fell on his lap momentarily, but she turned away and admonished herself for the look. When he slumped back into the chair, she whipped the other shirt over his head, stuffing his arms into the sleeves.

"Margaret," he said, opening his arms and leaning forward. She caught him just in time. His head landed against her stomach.

"You are a filthy…stinking…drunk!" Margaret hissed. She prayed he wouldn't throw up all over her. It had happened before. Twice.

But Hawkeye didn't say anything else. His grip began to loosen around her waist. In some deep recess of conscience she regretted the whole "filthy, stinking" line. He was clean now and all he smelled like was gin and Ivory soap. Hawkeye had been very good to her lately, what with the pregnancy test, her divorce and that stupid rubber tub.

Almost unconsciously, she ran her fingers through his hair. When Margaret dreamed lately, Hawkeye was always there. In one horrible dream, she was at his funeral. He was naked in the coffin and she was naked, too, carrying his martini glass.

Wrapping her small arms around his waist, Margaret managed to heave him into her bed…but in the process he fell forward on top of her, trapping her against the mattress. Crawling to a sitting position, she cradled him in her arms. His head fell against his chest.

"I wanted to tell you everything's going to be okay. There's just – I can't lie. It might not," she babbled.

Hawkeye took a deep breath. One of his hands rested on her hip. The action caused Margaret to hold him tighter.

"The thing is, when the war ends you can't do this anymore. One day maybe no one will save you and you'll run into the street or drown in the bathtub and we'll both be naked at your funeral."

She was talking to herself as much as him now.

"We both need to grow up."

Hawkeye began to move slowly. His head lifted until she found herself staring into his blue eyes. They weren't cloudy at all. The grip he had on her hip tightened.

"Margaret," he said slowly.

"What?"

"I love you," Hawkeye said very clearly.

His lips fell on hers, but all too quickly his eyes closed and his head fell again. They sat like that for a moment because Margaret was stunned. Was it the alcohol talking? Did he say that to everyone? She'd thought a lot about love lately. Chalk it up to her miserable experiences with Frank and Donald. Right now, she didn't think she could love anyone.

"I'm sorry," she told Hawkeye's sleeping form.

And she meant it.

**November 1968.**

Dinner was chicken soup but no one could really eat it. The flu bug crushed Crabapple Cove that year, closing schools and sending dozens of people to the hospital.

Margaret was the only person in the household that didn't have it. She paced from room to room as a cold November rain pattered on the tin roof. At the end of the hall, her youngest child slept fitfully. He cried out, sending her running. Ben Jackson had fallen out of bed. She gathered him off the floor and lovingly laid him back in bed.

"Momma, my throat hurts," he said miserably. Ben's cheeks were bright red.

"I know honey. You'll be better soon. It's just gonna take some time."

Ellie was in worse shape. She was curled around a plastic salad bowl. Margaret noted her daughter's skin color…light green, just like the bowl.

"Do you want your diving magazines?" Margaret asked, sitting on the corner of the bed.

"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhh," Ellie moaned, shaking her head.

"Lay down and take a drink of water," Margaret said in a neutral voice that belied her concern. Ellie took a small sip and buried her head in the pillow. Margaret kissed Ellie's cheek and laid a cool washcloth on her forehead.

In her own bedroom, Hawkeye had sweated through another pair of pajamas. He had been the first person in the household to catch the flu, thanks to his patients. At least the fever was subsiding and he was a little coherent than their kids.

"Are Ellie and Ben okay?" he asked, trying to get into a sitting position.

"I just checked. They're alright."

She carried a bowl of cool water and a washcloth over to the bed. Hawkeye smiled. Nursing training meant Margaret could give one hell of a sponge bath.

"There's some soup downstairs if you feel up to it," she said, pulling off his shirt.

Hawkeye shook his head. "Water's fine for now."

They'd had a rip-roaring argument the week before about Vietnam. Hawkeye had never been vague about his thoughts on the matter. He was railing over the troops the president kept pouring into the region and the loss of life. Margaret agreed, but she thought something had to be done to stop the spread of communism. They went back and forth for two days and were hardly speaking to each other when Hawkeye started to get sick. The two had arguments like this occasionally in the past, but they were happening now on a more frequent basis. This scared both of them.

"I could go for one of those hot toddies right now," Hawkeye sighed as Margaret ran the washcloth over his legs.

"No liquor," she said, smiling inwardly. She was in a very sensitive place now.

"Margaret, you have a magical way with a washcloth," he said, with a wink. This was evidenced by some movement in his lap.

"Okay, let's get you dried off and into some fresh clothes," she said quickly. It would have been easy to make love to him and forget all that had passed between them in the last week.

"_Would you let Ben go to Vietnam? And come back dead or just as screwed up as we are?"_

"_Stop it!" Margaret screamed. "You're the only one screwed up around here about it."_

_Hawkeye grabbed her elbow, upsetting a glass that was between them. "Would you let him go?"_

"_Let go of me," she hissed, pushing him away roughly. " Yes, I would let him go. It's his…"_

"_Don't say it's his duty as an American!"_

"_It's his duty as an American."_

_Margaret picked up her glass and poured the remains of a Coke into his lap._

"_Leave me alone," she said, storming out of the room. His lap smelled less like Coke and more like rum. _

Hawkeye shrugged on a new pair of pajamas and climbed back into bed beside Margaret. She pulled him into an embrace. His head rested against her chest, and her heart sounded like distant cannons.

"I love you," he said.

"I remember the first time you told me that."

"On the breakwater."

Margaret smiled and chuckled. "No."

"I'm sure it was on the breakwater," Hawkeye said, getting agitated.

"You said it in Korea the night after Radar left," she said.

Hawkeye lifted his head. "I did?"

"You were drunk. I found you face-down in the rain outside my tent."

He was quiet. BJ knew and Hawkeye had known himself that he'd fallen pretty hard for Margaret at that point. "What did you say back?" he asked.

Margaret sucked in a whallop of air. "I think I said I was sorry. Look, I wanted to love you, but the way things were meant I didn't want to put my heart on the line again."

_With a drunk, _Hawkeye thought.

She snapped off the light and they sat in the dark for awhile.

"Oh well," he said, trying to lighten the mood. "All's well that ends well."

"I suppose," Margaret sighed. She turned over, leaving Hawkeye to listen to the rain and wonder what she meant.


	2. Chapter 2

_The Korean sunlight is gone. Lamps pop on across the 4077th but the surgeons don't know this. They're knee deep in blood, guts, pus and body parts. Hawkeye Pierce is trying to stitch an aorta back together, but blood is spurting towards the ceiling. The nurse beside him says nothing. He's sure it's Margaret, just by the easy rhythm they have together. BJ is two tables down sawing off a soldier's leg._

"_Beej, how long have we been in here?" Hawkeye calls out._

_BJ_ _doesn't answer and Hawkeye immediately begins to think about the still. The aorta is slippery and slides around as he clamps it again._

"_Major, 3-0 silk. I need more."_

_Instead, she hands him a full martini glass. He's shocked; Margaret must know he's operating a little tipsy. _

"_Margaret, I need that silk," he pleads, taking a sip from the glass. It's marked by his bloody fingerprints. The body he's working on begins to jerk like a fish on land. The cover over the patient's head folds down and with horror, Hawkeye recognizes his son. _

"_No. This isn't...Margaret? Are we..."_

_But Margaret is not Margaret. A closer look reveals dark hair falling out from under the surgical cap. _

"_You're a ghost. You're not real. It can't be. BJ, what's happening here?"_

_But BJ is gone. The dark-haired nurse pulls the cover over the patient's face. "Sorry Dad, he's dead. You couldn't save Benny," she says, and displaying no emotion, she leaves. _

_Hawkeye is now alone in the OR with the lifeless body of his son._

And with that, Doctor Hawkeye Pierce woke with a cold start. Everything was in its place, the dresser, the bureau, the mirror. Margaret was asleep beside him. Her mouth was slightly open and saliva was beginning to puddle on her pillow. One of her breasts was erupting from the top of her nightgown.

"Ughh. Uck," she said, turning over, coughing slightly. Her eyes looked pouchy and strained. Hawkeye knew it was the alcohol at work. The clock on the bedside stand said six. She'd be getting up soon.

He must have fallen back asleep because the alarm clock was ringing. Margaret was slowly climbing over him to turn it off when he grabbed her. "Lay here with me awhile," he said, pinning her against his chest.

Very gingerly, he ran his hands through her hair. But when he leaned in to kiss her forehead, Margaret scrambled out of reach. Hawkeye's head hit the pillow with a hard thump.

"Let me check on the kids," she said quickly, dashing out of the room.

A light rain was still falling, so Hawkeye put on a bathrobe and some rubber boots and headed downstairs to get the paper. The rush of cool air woke him completely. The briny smell of the ocean enveloped him. So, he stayed on the porch for a bit, just watching the cars go by and town come to life.

"Hawkeye! Get in here!" Margaret screeched through the door. He walked in to find her looking furious.

"What the hell were you doing out there? Are you trying to kill yourself? You're just getting over the flu, for Christ's sake!"

He wanted to explain the dismal beauty that lurked out in the half-light. He wanted to tell her about his strange dream. Most of all, he wanted to ask why his love couldn't make her stop drinking. Instead, Hawkeye Pierce looked at the floor as his wife stomped away. He could hear her fussing over Ben and Ellie in the kitchen. Ellie was just barely sitting up and pale as a ghost. Ben was looking a little better and drinking an orange juice.

"You should go back to bed," he said to Ellie, kissing her cheek.

"I told her to come down here and at least try and eat something," Margaret said, not turning around from the stove. She was wearing a ratty pink bathrobe and a kind of slippers affectionately known further south as "dollar store sliders".

"Do you want to eat anything?" Hawkeye asked his daughter. She shook her head no.

"Go on, then," he said. "Give me a hug first."

Ellie hugged her father and cast a suspicious glance at Margaret, who was tending to a pot of oatmeal. Hawkeye watched Ellie run up the stairs, her feet slipping on the highly polished wood.

Margaret banged a pot down, making Ben jump.

"Dear," she said through clenched teeth, "Benny, why don't you go watch cartoons? I need to talk to your father."

Ben eyed both of them and left the room. Margaret waited until the Looney Tunes music blared from the den.

"What was the meaning of THAT?" she asked, turning to face Hawkeye. Her face was red.

"The meaning of what? She's sick. Ellie will eat when she wants to. Right now the important thing is that she get a little sleep. And furthermore, this isn't even worth discussing," Hawkeye said, opening the paper with a snap.

Margaret was quiet for a moment. "Let me remind you, DOCTOR Pierce, that I am a nurse and know the signs of dehydration. She has them."

Hawkeye put the paper down. "Okay, let's talk about the real problem here. Why not just come out and say you're miserable? I can't make you happy, the kids can't make you happy. And your mood swings...it's like living with the Two Faces of Eve. I don't know who I'm talking to anymore."

Margaret folded her arms. "I think you're completely off base. What about you, wandering around in the rain and all the accusations you had for me last week? You're far from perfect. Hawkeye. I was in Korea with you, you know. Boozing, all those other women..."

"As far as that goes, I was trying to cope with being taken away from my family. I was going to be nice and leave Frank Burns out of the equation, but now let's bring him up. You almost had me court-martialed..."

"You deserved it!"

"...and yes, I had a drinking problem. But so did you...so DO you. There are liquor bottles in the garage, the freezer, under the kitchen sink..."

"No," she said, "No."

"...and I found one yesterday in the seams of the living room curtains. Why not just admit it?"

The air crashed in the kitchen. Margaret's face sagged. She turned back to the stove and cut the burner off very calmly. Then she rushed at Hawkeye, knocking him out of his chair and bringing the whole table over with both of them. Her hands found his neck and she began to bang his head on the linoleum.

"**_YOU DON'T LOVE ME, YOU NEVER DID_**, " she screamed rhythmically.

He tried to push her away but only succeeded in grabbing the lapels of her bathrobe. She reared up her fist and hit him firmly in the mouth, splitting Hawkeye's lip. He grabbed her wrists and began to shake her. He saw movement in the kitchen doorway. It was Ellie and Ben. Ellie was looking on blankly and Ben was shedding big, silent tears with his arms wrapped around his sister's waist.


	3. Chapter 3

Ben's choked sob caused Margaret to stop. She turned quickly in the direction of the doorway and caught site of her stunned children. The kitchen grew very quiet, save for Ben's sniffling and a last bubble popping in the pot of oatmeal. Glass glittered on the floor like crushed ice. Hawkeye was laying in a puddle of orange juice and hot coffee, blood streaming down his face.

Margaret sat up and looked around. Then she scooted backwards against the cabinets, gathered her knees up and began rocking back and forth. She began to cry.

"Mommy!" Ben yelled, running across the floor towards her. He wrapped his arms around Margaret's neck but she just kept rocking.

"Ellie," Hawkeye said, through a mouthful of blood. But Ellie was now staring at Margaret, frowning.

"Ellie, call Grandpa Ben and tell him to come over here very quickly," Hawkeye said again, trying to stand up.

Ellie opened her mouth and shut it, then ran down the hall. Hawkeye ran a sleeve across his face and spat more blood out on the linoleum. Some of Margaret's hair was on the floor, too. Ben was still circling her like a hawk.

"Ben, go get a washcloth," said Hawkeye.

Margaret began to bang her head against the cabinets. She then sank to the floor, pounding it with her fist. Unsteadily, Hawkeye rose to his feet. Blood pattered from his lip onto the overturned table. Ellie had come back, still standing in the doorway and not daring to enter the room.

'Granpa's coming."

Hawkeye nodded. A wave of nausea passed through him and everything blurred.

"Help me!"

Ellie crossed the threshold and grabbed him, pushing him into a chair. She held a kitchen towel to his face to try and stop the bleeding. Ben came in with the dripping washcloth and looked questioningly at Hawkeye.

"Wipe your mother's face, Benny."

Margaret's face was covered with Hawkeye's blood. He couldn't bear to see it because it was just too much like Korea. Ben crouched in front of his mother and patted her face hesitantly with the cloth.

Daniel Pierce walked into this strange scene. The kitchen table was completely upside down. Puddles of blood were everywhere. Ellie was in the corner, throwing up in the kitchen trash can. Her arms were covered with blood. Hawkeye was slumped in the only upright chair with blood dripping down his shirt. Margaret laid in the corner, curled up into a ball, shaking like a leaf. Ben dropped his washcloth and ran towards Daniel.

"What's happened here?" Daniel asked the very upset child.

"Momma tried to kill Daddy."

Ellie looked up from the trashcan. "That's not true," she said, wiping her mouth.

Daniel felt like crying, too. 'Come here, sweetie. Take Benny upstairs and let him pick out some toys. Then get dressed and you can watch all the TV you want at my house."

She gave him a grateful half-smile and guided Ben upstairs. When they were out of earshot, Daniel picked his way across the floor toward Margaret. She was still shaking and didn't acknowledge him at all.

"Son, you didn't hurt her…did you?"

"The opposite happened," Hawkeye sighed, getting up slowly and approaching the two of them.

"Let me talk to her for a second. Go on and get all that blood off you. You're scaring the kids to death."

When Hawkeye left, Daniel carefully pulled Margaret to a sitting position. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest.

"Honey, what happened here?"

Margaret just shook her head.

"Do you want to talk at all?" Daniel asked. His deep voice was very soothing.

Finally, Margaret looked up into his eyes. "He doesn't love me anymore," she choked.

"Now why would you say something like that?"

"He called me a drunk!"

Her words hung in the air. Daniel frowned. He knew about her problem and had witnessed a few of her mood swings. Margaret was coming down now. Her agitated breathing was slowing.

"I can promise you this," Daniel said, tilting her head up. "That boy loves you more than life itself. Do you realize how upset he gets when you leave town? Or how much he wrote about you in his letters from Korea?"

"I'll bet he said he hated me."

"No. He never said that. I know you guys didn't get along well in the beginning but I think he was always scheming to ask you out."

Margaret looked thoughtful, then she wiped her nose with the washcloth. "I hit him, Dad."

Daniel tightened his grip on her. "Well, these things happen," he said, looking around.

He heard the front door open and shut. There went Ben and Ellie, escaping the scene of the crime.

"Come on. I'm going to call Iris and she'll get you taken care of," Daniel said, pulling Margaret to her feet.

"Oh, my kitchen," she moaned as he led her away.

XXXXXX

Iris Todd was Daniel's kindly nurse. Her husband had recently passed away and she was nearing seventy. When the kids were born, it was Agnes who delivered them. She knew about the family's ups and downs and even adopted the Pierce kids as her grandchildren, even though she had nine of her own.

While Daniel stitched Hawkeye's lip back together, Iris helped Margaret pack a bag.

"You can stay with me for a while. It'll be like a vacation. We'll have cheesecake and play canasta…"

"What's Hawkeye going to do? Is he okay?" Margaret asked.

"I called my cleaning lady and she'll be over later to clean up. I told her you had a raccoon get loose in the kitchen," Iris said, ignoring Margaret's queries.

Meanwhile, Hawkeye was trying not to squirm as Daniel finished stitching him up.

"You said she had mood swings in Korea. Was she drinking so much then?"

"When she was with Frank…yeah. Towards the end she backed off a bit. I guess she realized about the same time I did that it wouldn't stop once we came back to the states."

Daniel snipped off the end of the thread. "So she cut back and you cut back right about the time…"

"When I realized I might be in love with her," Hawkeye said. "Dad, she cured me. Maybe it was stupid to think I could fix her as well."

"No, it's not stupid. I think liquor alters people's body chemistry. You have your sweet drunks and your mean drunks. Only after a bit you tend to stay one way or 'tother."

They heard the front door close. Hawkeye rushed to the window to watch Margaret and Iris pull away in an old DeSoto. Daniel put a hand on his son's slumped shoulder.

XXXX

Hawkeye slept for what seemed like years, thanks to a sedative. At seven that evening he woke with a start, confused by his surroundings. A picture of his grandfather loomed on the wall and an old black and white picture of his parents sat on the bedside table. The TV droned from down the hall. A door shut in the kitchen. He could hear the crackle of the woodstove and the patter of the cold rain on the windows. It was all very comforting, but the ache in his mouth roused him from under the covers.

Daniel Pierce's home was small but cozy. Ellie was on the couch, eating ice cream and half-heartedly watching "The Monkees".

"Where's your brother?" Hawkeye asked, sitting next to her and kissing the side of her head.

"He's in bed. Grandpa had an emergency and had to go into the office," Ellie said.

"Uh-huh."

Ellie leaned against her father. They sat for awhile like that, looking at the screen but not really watching. Ellie's profile reminded him of Margaret and he had that nagging feeling that sometimes cropped up in his moments of self-doubt.

_Would Margaret have been better off without him?_

She had been destined to marry an Army mover-and-shaker. A real muscle man, not a skinny doctor in a bathrobe. Hers would have been a home of discipline, not a crazy place full of whoopee cushions, cartoons and loud burps followed by uproarious laughter. A place where you were careful to open that can of nuts just in case snakes popped out. There were rubber rats, funny hats, whiffle ball bats and bathtubs full of toys.

Margaret was stoic about the sea of nuttiness she navigated but sometimes Hawkeye swore he say a faraway look in her eyes. Like when Pickles the cat came downstairs wrapped like a mummy in Charmin or when Ellie tried out Margaret's new makeup on Ben, who afterwards resembled a mini truck stop hooker.

"Want some ice cream Dad?"

Ellie held the spoon to his face, derailing his train of thought.

"Thanks," he said, taking a bite.

"Is Mom gonna be alright?"

"Yes, she'll be fine," Hawkeye said, feeling a stabbing pain of guilt for his possible lie. "Tell you what, when all this is over I'll buy you that scuba suit you wanted."

Ellie smiled, but in her eyes there were many questions Hawkeye couldn't answer. She was a perceptive kid, who'd no doubt overheard her parents talk about BJ Hunnicutt's alcoholism and what it had done to his family. Could it happen to hers, too?

"Don't worry," Hawkeye said, answering the unspoken question. Then he was overcome by a wave of love for the sweet kid with Margaret's smile.

"Give me a hug and go to bed."

Ellie began to protest.

"You still have a fever. Why don't you grab some of Grandpa's old Life magazines and work on those?"

"Night Dad," she said, kissing his cheek.

"I love you, kid," Hawkeye said, watching Ellie wander down the hall.

XXXXX

"Are they going to take my children from me?"

Margaret was curled in Iris's guest bed, crying for her children. She missed them terribly. Iris sat on the side of the bed, trying to comfort the very distraught and confused woman.

"No, honey, no one's going to take your kids."

She sighed when Iris finally left the room. It troubled Margaret that she could barely remember what happened in the kitchen, only the shattered expressions on her children's faces. It wasn't like she'd never hit Hawkeye before but this time she'd tried to strangle him as well. But Hawkeye would never have hit her. She couldn't imagine him hitting anyone except Frank Burns.

Now he was at Daniel's house. Margaret desperately wanted to hear Ben's laughter, Ellie's records and feel Hawkeye's arms wrapped around her body.

_There's too much at stake here. _She knew it from the terror in his eyes when she leap at him. It was in Ellie's furious look at her after Hawkeye spat out blood.

"Oh God," she said to the ceiling, "What have I done?"


	4. Chapter 4

Margaret Houlihan had a strange insistence as a four year old: _if I throw a sheet over my head, I don't exist. _She'd sit on her little stool in her parent's kitchen at Fort Ord and wouldn't respond to conversation, the resident ghost of all things unsaid in the Houlihan family. Her father tanned her hide a few times about it, but she refused to cry and insisted on the "disappearing act", as Howitzer Al called it.

That night, lying in Iris's guest room, Margaret pulled the sheet over her head. It was comforting at first, but the adult thoughts of covered battle corpses crowded out any sense of security. She resurfaced ashamed and gasping for air.

Margaret began to cry silently into her pillow, missing Hawkeye's patient touch. But mostly it was out of longing to disappear the way she once had. She wanted to make the dark clouds of war disappear from her family's lives. She wanted to forget the rush of air as the shower walls collapsed, the screaming artillery and the taste of Hawkeye's tears on her tongue on those long nights he cried. All this would haunt her forever, and it would never go away. It was the smudge on her life she couldn't clean away.

_Maybe going crazy isn't so bad, _she thought while drifting off into a troubled sleep.

XXX

"Hawkeye, you're wanted in Post-Op."

Someone was tugging at his leg. Opening one eye just a crack, Hawkeye halfway expected to see a young Margaret in her green fatigues. Instead of feeling his ass scrape the Swamp floor, the feathery feeling of a bolster told him he was far away from the 4077th.

"Huh?"

Someone came into focus. It was his daughter.

"Dad, Benny's wanting orange juice and I don't have any money and I don't want to wake up Grandpa," Ellie said, shaking his foot.

"My wallet," he mumbled, turning over, vaguely aware of the smell of bacon. He heard Ellie grab a few bills and quietly close the door. Hawkeye almost immediately fell back to sleep.

Ellie was feeling a little better, but still made a point of bundling against the chilly rain. Down the street her own house sat dark and silent. It was the only home on the street without smoke wafting from the chimneys. Climbing down her grandfather's front steps, Ellie threw the paper on the porch and splashed her way down to the sidewalk. She hummed a little, just to see the steam come from her mouth and smiled when she was close enough to see the lights on in the Sunny South store.

"Ellie Pierce! What can I get you?" yelled Jack Colvin, the store's owner.

"Never mind, I can find what I need," Ellie yelled back, startling a little at the sound of her own voice. She fished a carton of orange juice from the long flat cooler and a can of Moxie from the soda display. The penny candy display was a personal weakness.

"Give me ten cents worth of root beer barrels, four black jawbreakers and a nickel's worth of licorice and two Bazookas," Ellie said.

Jack Colvin smiled at her. "Say, I heard about that raccoon that got into your house."

"A what?"

"Yeah, someone said it just about ruined your kitchen and your dad got a fat lip chasing the damn thing down."

Ellie didn't say anything for a long second but realized she had to say _something_. "Oh, that. Yeah."

Colvin gave her the change and the bag. "Tell your dad to come down and play checkers sometimes, fat lip and all."

Ellie just waved and stepped out into the damp air. She was beginning to hate Crabapple Cove, where everyone's business was public knowledge. As she walked back down the street, she passed Iris Todd's house. Her mother was staring out at the street, not noticing the sad-eyed girl in the lumpy rain slicker. Ellie was about to walk away when they made eye contact. Margaret knocked on the window and waved, but Ellie dropped her eyes and walked slowly away, a tornado of churned-up feelings twisting through her body, all the love and fear she had for her mother. It made her feel worse than she had the day before. When she got back to Daniel Pierce's house, Ben eagerly grabbed the orange juice and the candy. Ellie went down the hall and threw herself on the bed, torn between crying and screaming. She settled on crying. Ben came in and sat on the edge of the bed, watching his sister.

"You can have all the jawbreakers," he said after awhile.

XXXXXXXXXX

Hawkeye was up in time to watch the kids leave with Daniel for a trip to Portland. Ben loved eating lunch at the jetport and watching the planes take off and land. Hawkeye smiled at the thought of little Ben's face pressed against the glass, going absolutely nuts over the Viscounts and DC-8's as they loaded up and took off. They were very different from the Constellations Hawkeye used to love, how they stomped and bucked before the take-off roll. This couldn't compare to Ben's excitement over seeing the 880's kick up smoke on their landing.

Hawkeye realized he was daydreaming, just standing in the middle of the den. He missed Margaret terribly. He wondered if she was lonely, too. _There's so much we all don't know about each other_, he thought. Her outburst had frightened him terribly. Not the violence but the strange insistence he didn't love her. Didn't he tell her he loved her every day? Didn't she know how he savored every moment they were together, because they really weren't supposed to be together at all? In Korea, when they were lost and found each other in that shack, he remembered being taken aback by her passion.

_When they were through he collapsed on top of her, gasping in the stale air. Margaret's hands roamed up his back and he felt her urgent, hot breath on his cheek._

"_Let's do it again," she whispered in his ear._

_Hawkeye lifted his head. He was exhausted from their first go-round. _

"_Again? You want...again?"_

_She shook her head and ran her fingers down to his stomach, kissing his neck at the same time._

"_Again...is...a possibility," he smiled, embracing her._

Their passion had not cooled when they were married and the kids came. But earlier that

year, Margaret's behavior had reverted to her old fire-dragon Korea days. Just weeks before she'd screamed at Ben for going outside without a jacket. Not yelled, but screamed. Ben was mortified and Margaret felt bad later but couldn't remember what she'd said. There was also something terribly wrong between her and Ellie, as if something had passed between them had severed all lines of communication.

Suddenly just wondering wasn't enough. Hawkeye went to the window just in time to see Iris's car pull away for one of her weekly trips to Lewiston to see her grandkids. Margaret was there alone. He only paused long enough to pull on a pair of boots. Clad in only a t-shirt, pajama pants and a bathrobe, Hawkeye fought his way through the steady drizzle as Crabapple Cove rose out of the mists.

Iris had locked the front door. He looked in the front window and only saw the dusty house plants and couch. Around the side, window to window he searched until he found Margaret in bed, facing the wall. She was lying on top of the covers, shaking and crying. With the rain dripping into his eyes, Hawkeye watched her for a few minutes before he tapped on the glass. Margaret turned over slowly, wiping her eyes. Seeing who it was, she laid her hand on the glass pane and he did the same. Her gaze focused on his swollen lip for a moment. She threw the window latch and heaved it open. The damp, cold, salty air hit her like a load of bricks as Hawkeye shimmied through the window.

"Rapunzel!" he yelled, catching his foot on the bottom sill, almost toppling into Iris's cloying Hummel collection.

She stared at him for a minute before flinging herself into his wet arms. Hawkeye held her tight, not saying anything. He pressed his lips to her forehead and winced on making contact.

"I'm so sorry. I hurt you. I'm so sorry."

Hawkeye kissed her lips. He could taste her tears. She pulled away and stared at the floor.

"Why'd you come here?" she asked.

"Why the hell would you think I didn't love you?" Hawkeye asked, making eye contact.

"I...uh...no reason..."

"Come on, Margaret."

She took a deep breath. "You don't want to be married to the town drunk, and..."

"Margaret, you're not the town drunk You know why? Because you're not a drunk. It was wrong of me to say that, especially after Korea."

"Then why do I feel like I'm spinning out of control all the time? I can't even remember hurting you," she said, furrowing her brow. Hawkeye took her hand and they both sat on the bed.

"Sometimes even small amounts of booze can throw your chemicals off balance. You know that because it used to happen to Father Mulcahey. He went from saint to Ali in nothing flat. Then he'd have a hard time remembering what happened. I think you're wired the same way."

Margaret became very quiet, thinking this over. There was one incident she remembered and it still horrified her beyond reason.

Hawkeye rattled on. "So you just need to back off on the whole thing and my father wrote you this prescription."

She took it and read it at a glance. "Estrogen?"

"He thinks it'll help."

Margaret snorted. Why did all men think women were dictated by hormones alone? She was just creeping up on menopause and exhibited none of the classic symptoms. While she was shaking her head, Hawkeye pulled her into his arms.

"Look, unless you want to stay here a little while longer, the kids are in Portland with Dad. I'm going to get my things and head back to the house. Do you want to come home, too?"

Margaret nodded. "Just go on so I can write Iris a note and gather my things together. I'll meet you in about an hour."

Hawkeye smiled and kissed her again. She walked him to the front door and watched him walk down the sidewalk. Soon as he was out of sight, Margaret grabbed the phone and dialed a number she knew by heart.

"Sherman? It's Maggie. I really need to talk."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**September 1968.**

Ellie had picked up some salty language from her parents but had the good sense not to use it around them. But one day, when it was just Ellie and Margaret in the house, one little word would send their lives crashing down.

Ellie was studying math that September day, just sitting at her own little desk lost in the world of algebra. The only problem was her mother kept calling her downstairs for meaningless little tasks, derailing her train of thought. Then Margaret decided to take the ice out of the trays and put it in a bowl. Ellie's pencil broke at the sound of a metal tray against the metal counter.

"Ellie Pierce! Get down here now!"

Her frustration at a boiling point, Ellie slammed her book shut and threw the broken pencil in the garbage. She slammed her door and stomped down the stairs. In the kitchen all the lights were blazing and ice was all over the floor. Margaret was leaning over the sink, her knuckles white with exertion. She didn't see Ellie come to doorway to assess the situation. A board creaked under her feet and her mother whirled around.

"When I ask you to come, that means shake a leg, not take your sweet time," Margaret said in a false sugary sweet voice. Ellie wished she'd gone to the airport with her father and brother..

"Well, are you going to say anything?" Margaret said, moving close.

"No."

"For Christ's sake, what's your problem now?" Margaret said, her volume growing with every word.

"Every time I start studying you call me down here and ask me to do something stupid. If you think I'm picking that goddam ice off the goddam floor you can shove it!"

The words hung in the air. Margaret's face turned red. And all Ellie had time to say before Margaret pushed her was "shit!". Ellie was caught off guard and tumbled backwards into the dining room, grabbing for purchase on anything but failing. Her head hit the side of the table with a sickening crack and she sunk to the floor, out cold.

Margaret stood in the doorway for a moment, panting. She saw spots and closed her eyes slowly, twice. Then everything cleared and there was her daughter, on the floor and not moving at all.

"Oh God!"

She rushed to Ellie's side, fearful of a broken neck or a brain injury. Ellie's pupils were rolled back into her head. Margaret became frantic, crawling beside her prostrate daughter and moaning and crying and apologizing. A thin stream of blood ran from Ellie's ear and down her shirt. Then a shudder ran through her body and Margaret turned her over quickly, fearing a seizure. It was then that Ellie began to come around, moaning like a pitiful ghost. Margaret scooted beside her again.

"I'm sorry. Oh dear, if anything's wrong..."

Ellie was trying to sit up. Her hands went to the back of her head. When she opened her eyes they were slightly out of sync.

"Ellie, we need to get you upstairs. Can you walk with me if I help you up?" Margaret said.

Ellie swayed and began to lift herself hand-over-hand on a table leg. Margaret kneeled on the floor, suddenly fearful of her daughter. She was in the perfect position to backhand her mother. Instead, Ellie reeled drunkenly away.

"Don't ever touch me again," Ellie whispered in a cracked voice as she catapulted herself to the stairs. She ascended like Frankenstein and bumped into the wall a few times before going into her bedroom and collapsing on the bed.

The subject of that evening was never brought up between them again. Margaret hoped Ellie didn't remember, but even when they were on civil terms, she was always waiting for her daughter to push back. Neither of the them ever told Hawkeye, either, because he was very protective of Ellie. It would have ripped a chasm in the family no one could repair. Ellie didn't tell Ben about it until the night before she was married, when she told her future husband as well. Margaret only told Sherman Potter. That's who she called the moment Hawkeye left that drizzly day in November.

**November 1968.**

"Well, don't tell him and just trust your daughter will do the same. I'll send you some Lithium and we'll see if that works. You just can't drink anymore, honey, or they're liable to lock you away. I guess you know about the Hunnicutts. You don't want that, do you?" asked Potter through the crackling phone line.

"It's just so hard. The further I get from the war, the more it's just there, just there all the time," Margaret said.

"I know, dear. I miss all of you. Soon as the misses finishes this church cookbook she's putting together in March, we'll come up to visit. That way I can check on you myself."

"Oh, I'd like that so much."

Potter chuckled. "And in the meantime, call me if it gets too tough. And promise me you'll talk to a professional at some point."

"I promise. I love you. You've always been like a father to me."

"I love you too, dear. Kiss those kids for me. Give your husband a kiss for me too, but don't tell him who it's from," Sherman said, hanging up the phone.

XXXXXXXXX

Back at the house Hawkeye walked through the kitchen. It was immaculate. Everything was back in place as if nothing ever happened. He started a fire so Margaret wouldn't be cold.

She came in soaking wet from the rain.

"Come on, let's get warmed up," Hawkeye smiled, taking her hand and leading her to the bedroom. He sat on the edge of their bed, watching her undress.

"Are you going to be okay?" he asked, getting up. She welcomed his embrace and exhaled as he wrapped his arms tightly around her. They stayed like that for a long time.

They were both napping on the couch when Daniel dropped the kids off. Ben ran into Margaret's arms, laughing and happy to have his mother back. She pulled him on her lap as he explained the workings of an airplane model Daniel bought at the airport.

Ellie looked pale and tired. Margaret sent Ben upstairs to put on pajamas and put a hand under her daughter's chin.

"Are you doing okay?"

Their eyes met for a second. Ellie was about to say something when Hawkeye came over and felt his daughter's forehead. Margaret let go of her chin and sat back.

"I'll make some tea for you and then we can all watch Carol Burnett," Margaret said, trying to conceal any notes of pleading in her voice.

Thirty minutes later, they were all settled in the upstairs bedroom. Ben had a bowl of dry cereal, Margaret and Hawkeye had popcorn and Ellie was content with her mug of hot tea. Margaret regarded them all with fear and awe, the same way she'd feel almost twenty years later when Ben got his medical degree and Ellie did something that made national news. What Margaret didn't know was that Ellie often felt the same degree of awe for her mother, especially after hearing war stories from the other 4077th denizens.

Hawkeye caught Margaret's faraway look and leaned over for a kiss and a better grasp on the popcorn.

The show ended and the news came on. Ben was out cold against Hawkeye, his cereal circulating its way through the sheets. Ellie was asleep, too, and not looking quite so pale. Noticing Hawkeye had dozed off, Margaret pulled Ellie close and stroked her hair.

"You're my little dolly," she whispered. "I hope you'll forgive me someday."

"Harvey Korman," Ellie mumbled, before turning over and stretching her legs out.

Margaret turned off the television and laid there for a long time listening to her family breathe and the rain beat on the windows, a sound like the boots of many soldiers marching off to war.


End file.
